


Fact and Fiction

by littletechiebird



Category: DCU, DCU Animated, Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littletechiebird/pseuds/littletechiebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those who step up, take on the job, work for the cause — they look to their predecessors, wondering if they’d get approval. Tim never thought he’d measure up, but he’d never thought it would be quite like this either. Maybe he should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fact and Fiction

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Victim](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11914) by MidnightRoulette. 



> A/N: We’ve seen this in the Teen Titans comics, but we all know that characterization is different for the base of Earth-16. It would play out very similarly, but I believe Tim’s thinking would be very different. After all, we’ve already seen that his confidence levels when it comes to the team, and mostly himself, his questionable.

If he closed his eyes, he could think back. He could take himself back to the memories of the countless nights that he had descended the staircase into the grotto, walking further, deeper, until he reached the quiet space of reverence. He’d lower his head for moments of respect for each individual that was immortalized in the space, but his head would raise again as his feet padded closer to one monument in particular. 

 

That monument.

 

_His_ monument.

 

It would be in those moments that he wondered how he could ever hope to measure up, to make sure he rose to the best that he could possibly be for the sake of his predecessor. He would wonder just how things had managed to go so wrong. He’d done the research --  he knew the basics, but he would never ask anyone for details. It was too painful for them. It wasn’t his place, for he didn’t need to know such intimate detail. But he had wondered, what had this Robin, this “Jason Todd”, been like? He’d heard bits and pieces. He knew he’d been a headstrong kind of kid who hadn’t had the easiest life, but he’d actually turned it around when Bruce had offered him the chance. He may have been a bit rough, but he’d fought for the cause that Bruce worked for. He’d turned from what many would have considered to be a statistic, into something amazing, something others could only wish they could be. He’d become a _hero_.

 

But heroes.. 

 

They weren’t usually quite like this.

 

The metallic taste in his mouth was refreshed shortly after another crack sounded within the cave walls of Mount Justice, echoing up from the grotto.To complete the moment, his body slammed to the ground. He couldn’t honestly process if he was face down or up, not with the way his limbs had begun to ache and burn as his head spun and throbbed.

 

Tim hadn’t known what to think when he’d seen the unfamiliar figure several feet from where he stood at the top of the staircase, though his hand had immediately gone to his staff. An intruder alert hadn’t sounded, and there hadn’t been a notification of a zeta beam transport either, authorized or otherwise. It made no sense. Had he not been paying attention? Had the lack of sleep finally caught up to him along with the strain of his workload?

 

He’d known there was no reason to linger on the thoughts. It was more important to figure out just who this was -- friend or foe -- and go from there.

 

It hadn’t been sound caught his attention. Only instinct screamed at him to turn. Pivoting upon his heel, he spun but then froze. 

 

He could have sworn that he had turned to face the memorial within the cave. 

 

That _uniform_. That _face_.

 

His breath caught in his throat, body tensing in the natural human reaction at seeing what had to be a ghost, the ghost, his ghost that had been haunting him ever since he’d first stepped in to don the uniform of his own and given the name, the honor, the duty, and the burden that came with it. 

 

Suddenly his mind was filled with a million questions. Ones like, “How are you here?” or “What happened?” that would have been expected to be at the front of his mind scarcely had room in the back where they were shoved in favor of others. Ones he had been asking himself for as long as he had been wearing this uniform, or maybe a little longer. After all, it had not only been Dick’s run as Robin with Batman that he had followed so closely. He’d done the same with Jason as well.

 

“Tch. No freakin’ way.”

 

Tim snapped from the hum of the questions that pressed against his skull as the voice of the former Robin, the second Robin, cut through the silence of the open space.

 

“So you’re the kid everybody’s talking about. Tim Drake. Robin number three.”

 

He wore a mask, just like they always did, but he could feel those eyes and their scrutiny. He had been wondering how he would measure up to Jason and if he could make his predecessor proud -- well he was about to get his answer. 

 

Maybe his expectance was what blinded him.

 

In that moment, the smaller male was rushed. His sobering moment? It could have been when the fist met his jaw. Maybe it the elbow that jabbed into his stomach, or the kick to the side that sent him tumbling back down the stairs into the memorial space. Perhaps it was in the few moments that his cheek pressed against the cool stone floor before it was smashed against it as a boot slammed down upon the diagonal line from his temple, to cheekbone, to jawline, telling him Jason had followed close behind. 

 

He saw stars.

 

His questions died away.

 

His expectance shattered.

 

“They’ve gotta be kidding. A kid like you.. In fact, there’s no way no matter who it is.”

 

Breathing in deep through his nose, he kept himself level through the pain, thinking through what would be his next course of action, and gaining the proper focus he would need to pull it off and face this ghost that had returned as a man.

 

“If someone was digging through Bruce’s life, tailing him for weeks, trying to figure out who Batman was?” 

 

The heel pressed down harder against his temple, making his thoughts haze in the slightest as he winced, sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.

 

“He’d _know_ about it.” The words are ground out with what seems to be grave offense. As if the fact that this had been what Tim accomplished, it insulted Jason, himself. That maybe because he had bested the man and stepped beyond the boundaries that no one had yet crossed, he had harmed the image or light in which Jason saw Bruce..

 

Maybe he had.

 

“So you _can’t_ be _that_ good.”

 

Eyes narrowed behind his mask while in one swift, fluid movement, his had snatched and encircled a batarang that was quickly brought to slash and jab into the calf of the man that stood above and upon him. It elicited a howl that faded into an angry, snarling growl. It did the job, which was to get the older man’s foot off of him. He rolled away and sprung to his feet, retrieving his staff to stand at the ready as angry eyes started upon him once more. No doubt the man was seeing red. This was the last fight he wanted to have. This was one of the last places that it should’ve ever happened in. 

 

But then again, it never should have happened at all.

 

“I am.”

 

Somehow, Tim answered with more confidence than he felt. In a way, this felt like a confirmation of all he had been fearing. He had been struggling against himself, and others, ever since he first donned the outfit to prove a point, and to keep from losing his heroes forever. His confidence about _being there_ , and having that title, having the responsibility, and above all, _deserving it all_ was what he fought to accept. He’d passed the training, and he still continued to. He followed all the instructions, the rules, he tried to be what everyone needed him to be, and as good as they needed him to be.

 

But he’d never been sure if that was enough.

 

It didn’t help to have Jason throwing him around the cave like a rag doll. He got his hits in. He was putting up a good fight. Even so, Jason was better. Tim was sure that it wasn’t just experience. He was being fueled and so strongly motivated by something that Tim just couldn’t match in that moment, if ever, and he knew that. He definitely didn’t have a chance while he was distracted by guilt.

 

Their uniforms were in shambles. Their breathing was ragged. Blood droplets and pools stained the stone beneath their feet while smears stained the walls. A crash, then a thud sounded within the space as Tim collided with the wall and slid down to one knee. 

 

“What do you _want_?”

 

Maybe it was the question he should have been asking all along. 

 

“Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it?”

 

As he asked that question, there was an immediate fear that welled up inside his chest, heated panic spreading through his limbs. 

 

_‘You want to take it away from me?’_

 

Jason’s expression went unchanged, and for a long while, he said nothing in response. 

 

“Why in the hell would that ever be what I want?”

 

Tim didn’t fully believe it, but that statement merely told him there was something more pressing in Jason’s mind. 

 

“You don’t get it. I _died_. I died and no one cared. They forgot about me.”

 

The younger boy was frozen where he knelt, eyes wide, completely baffled by the words spoken moments before. Was what what he’d really thought? Jason’s voice, when he listened close, almost sounded like the voice of a hurt, lost child. But there was no missing the anger. There was no missing the pain and the trauma that lingered in his voice -- of course it was there. 

 

“You have no idea. Just.. none at all. Because you don’t get how crazy that is.”

 

Pulling himself back to his feet, he wiped the blood from his mouth on the back of his glove, leaning against the wall as he tried to gather his waning energy.

 

“No one forgot you. Not a single person. Not for a second.”

 

He wondered if Jason was listening, or if he was dismissing every single word he said on principle because he was the boy who had become his stand-in. The saying was, “There’s no harm in trying” but he felt as if this night had proven it completely wrong. Figures.

 

Standing straight up on his own two feet again, he gestured to the memorial that stood proudly to Jason’s right. 

 

“If they forgot you, then what do you call that?”

 

Jason spared it a moment’s glance, expression screaming disinterested as he gazed upon it and then looked back at Tim.

 

“Formality.”

 

Tim shot forward, dropping down once he was in close range to knock Jason’s feet from under him. As he heard the satisfying thump behind him, he jumped to his feet, drew his staff, and pressed it against the center of Jason’s chest, ready to shift it and activate the taser function if he were to move. 

 

“All the time I’ve worn this mask, I’ve been working with your shadow hanging over me. I always reminded myself about the guy who came before me. I always wondered if I was ever going to measure up. I decided I’d be happy if I could be half as good as you when you were Robin, but I’d always keep trying to do even better because I knew that was how Nightwing was when he was Robin, and I had heard the same of you.”

 

“...Now you’re just kidding yourself.”

 

It was Jason’s turn to pull a fast one. Knocking the staff aside, his foot raised and slammed into Tim’s knee. The pain shot through his senses white hot, and before he could drop, a hand shot out for his neck and acted as a swift guide for him to meet the ground. His head made an earsplitting crack as it collided with the floor, mind beginning to fizzle out and shut down, but he didn’t miss the pressure against his windpipe, making him gasp for air.

 

“N-No one... was the same.. after you died.” He choked, fighting for coherency. “B..Bruce.. would’ve.. would’ve too..” Even with his blurred vision, he saw the way Jason’s face contorted into a snarl. He wondered if he thought he was lying. 

 

“Batman.. needed a... R..Robin. I--” Another gasp was all he could manage as his eyes screwed shut tight in response to the hand that squeezed even tighter around his neck.

 

“Don’t try and sound so noble, kid. All you are, all you’ve become, is a _replacement_.”

 

The pressure relieved once Jason stood, pulling his leg back and swinging it forward for one last kick to Tim’s ribs, his cry overlapping the sickening crack. The former Robin stepped over him and towards the memorial. Through the ringing in his ears, he could make out a faint beeping and retreating footsteps. The beeping continued in a steady pattern before speeding up and stopping completely on one long note. Tim curled into himself despite the pain as the bomb detonated, the force of it sending him skidding backwards until his back met the wall roughly. The other three memorials flickered for a moment, but were untouched by the blast itself. Jason’s was no longer lit, smoke rising from the base in a strong, dark pillar as it filled the area.

 

His head swam and throbbed, limbs aching, the taste of blood still prominent upon his tongue. He needed to get up, at least to the top of the staircase. He needed to...

 

Forearms pressing against the ground, he struggled to raise himself, fighting against the way his body shook. His vision was in and out. He couldn’t focus. As he raised his head to look towards his goal, he felt his arm shift against his ribs. The pain surged again, his thoughts were swept aside. 

 

He let himself drop.


End file.
